𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 83: 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐮𝐭𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬

𝐌𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚’𝐬 𝐍𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬°°°

The night felt too close as Nevena stepped out of the bathroom, steam trailing her like ghosts.

A silk bathrobe clung to her damp skin, hair twisted up in a towel turban.

She checked her phone again and Antonio’s message glowed on the screen: a single line location. Nothing more.

Heat flooded her cheeks. Heart hammering against her ribs, loud enough to echo in the hollow guesthouse.

Not lingering, she crossed to the vanity, sat under the soft vanity lights, and reached for her dryer.

To her dismay, light footsteps echoed outside, the exterior lights flickered once, twice, then steadied.

She rose silently, moved to the extremity of the room, checking the windows.

Right outside her porch two silhouettes crawled out, gliding toward the service fuse box.

She backed away, snatched her phone from the marble table but her lights died immediately.

Darkness swallowing the apartment whole

“Jesus,” she breathed, the word barely audible.

A sound followed— soft, metallic scraping at the front door lock.

Adrenaline coursed her to retreat blindly until her spine hit the dresser.

Fingers trembling, she dialed the only number that her mind rang. Not the police but Antonio.

“Foreigner,” a rough voice called from the hallway, thick with menace. “I know you’re home. Open the goddamn door.”

The call to Antonio rang once, twice and went straight to voicemail.

“Mr Hunt. Pick up,” she breathed, clutching her chest, pulse pounding in her ears.

“Come on, sweetheart,” the voice coaxed, impatient now. “We don’t wanna make this messy.”

The entrance handle rattled hard. “Open up.”

“Where are you?” Nevena sobbed into the silent line, as she sent him a message, pressing herself under the bed.

“Hey, lady,” a second voice growled, deeper, colder. “I’d hate to ruin a pretty place like this. But you've left me with no other option.”

Glass exploded inward. Shards rained across the tiles like lethal confetti.

From under the bed where she’d crawled, she watched boots roll through the broken window.

The intruder crossed silently and unlatched the front door for his partner.

Two dark figures now, moving with practiced smoothness despite the glass, searching —flashlight beams slicing the dark like knives.

They swept the living room, the kitchen, and her room. Unhurried.

“Where the fuck is she?” one muttered. “Bitch show up already.”

“Check the cabinets,” the other suggested, torch beam swinging wildly.

They turned toward the kitchen and that was the moment Nevena’s phone chose that to ring— Stefan.

The shrill tone shattered the silence, making the men pause.

She clawed for the power button, but it was already late.

A boot kicked the porcelain vase beside the bed and it shattered, shards spraying under the frame, slicing across her forearm.

She screamed in pain, giving out her hiding.

One of the men crouched in close, voice low. “Told you we didn't have to make this ugly”

He caught her wrist and yanked her out like a rag doll, pain shooting up her arm.

She shouted, kicked, scratched—but he was iron.

He shoved her back against the bed, forearm crushing her throat just enough to steal breath.

“Please” she gasped, tears streaking her face. “Let me go. I’m nothing to you.”

“Relax, princess.” he murmured, breath hot against her ear. “We’re not here to kill you. You’re worth way more alive.”

A hood dropped over her head. Zip ties biting into her wrists.

They carried her out like cargo and dumped her into the trunk of a waiting sedan.

Tires screamed and the car peeled away to an unknown destination.

------

Outside, the city was buzzing.

Somewhere on it, Antonio stared at the missed call notification as his Maybach glided through the evening.

Grinch was driving, so he couldn't pick, protocol forbade him taking her calls in his presence.

He only silenced the ringer and focused.

As they turned into the mansion’s private driveway, he couldn't help but notice an eerie silence.

He scanned the environment extensively— alert crawling in his heart.

“Did you by chance poach the bird nest?” he asked, pocketing his phone.

“No” Grinch answered the canny question. “But something doesn't seem right here.”

At the gate, Grinch pulled to a halt smoothly. “Stay put. I'll check.”

“No....” Antonio objected, unbuckling his seatbelt instead. “I will open the gate myself”

He stepped out into the chill, surveying the surroundings.

His nose taking up the smell of danger as he thumped the password into the system and the gate creaked open.

Grinch drove in and he left the gate open, retaking his position.

“Here” Grinch offered him a gun and trench knife, “It might come in handy”

The suspicion in their instinct wasn't mere anymore.

Throughout the three minutes drive to the main mansion, the two daredevils kept their noses up, picking danger signals.

Pulling over in front of the mansion, they looked at each other momentarily, the eye language familiar to both of them.

Antonio slipped his fingers into the knuckles and nodded.

Grinch took the lead and he followed behind, high alertness.

Getting to the front door, Grinch peeked and swiveled his head. “Torchlight?”

Antonio, overly understanding, dug into his coat and passed him a small ultraviolet torch, no bigger than a marker pen.

Grinch flicked on the device and its muted violet beam crawled over the entrance palm scanner’s glass.

A thin ghost-ring bloomed around the scanner’s edge, adhesive residue that shouldn’t have been there.

“Someone opened it,” he said quietly.

Antonio didn't say a word, he only leaned closer, and saw that the original tamper seal glowed unevenly.

“Who do you suspect?” he manage, voice deadly calm.

“Could be cops,” Grinch said. “Could be Vincenzo. Could be the Arabs. Pick one — your enemies outnumber your friends.”

Antonio drew the suppressed pistol from his coat jacket, racked the slide softly.

“Even if they unite” he said, eyes black as tar. “I won't run away from my house.”

Grinch gave a thin, humorless smile and nudged the door open.

Inside, the mansion was in good condition, except that there were no foot patrols, no domestic staff or even voices.

Everything stood unnaturally still.

“I will take right” Grinch suggested parting. They did.

Antonio took left— clearing rooms like ghosts.

They met again in the grand foyer and the response was still negative.

Antonio crossed to the bar, selected an unopened bottle of Macallan, cracked the seal.

He drank deep, throat working, then after half the bottle he offered it to Grinch.

“Drink up.”

Grinch took a long look before taking the bottle, “You sure it's safe?”

Antonio stared at the Macallan bottle, knuckles whitening around his gun. He messed up again.

His phone buzzed, dissolving the tension, he checked and it was Nevena’s desperate text delivering. “Fuck!”